Silence of the Wind OR Gone with the Lambs
by kittykitty76
Summary: A blatantly stupid crossover of Silence of the Lambs and Gone With The Wind.


Disclaimer: I own neither any of the characters of Gone With the Wind OR Silence of the Lambs.  If I did, I'd be a hybrid between a dude and a dead reclusive woman, and I wouldn't be a poor college student living in a dorm with a communal bathroom, but rather a RICH college student who would have bribed my(and my friends) way into the GOOD dorm.  

And yes, I KNOW Psychology didn't come about until 1879, so, what the hell, lets just say Scarlett's been dealing with this depression for about 8 years, and it'll all come out right… It's a blatant crossover, so it's not supposed to be cannon OR accurate.   
So read.  NOW.  And Review, or I'll consider you to be one of the "Free range rude", and make sure a certain cannibal knows and regards you as so as well.  BAH!

  The Silence of the Wind  OR  Gone With The Lambs, whichever you prefer

Scarlett ascended the steps to the house. After the death of Bonnie and Melanie, and the terrible divorce, Scarlett had gone into a deep depression. Dr. Meade suggested that she talk to another doctor, and told her to come to this address. She knocked, and a man answered the door.

"Mrs. Butler?" He asked. "The Doctor is expecting you."  
"Yes," She said as she stepped inside.   
A man in his early 50's stepped out of a room. He was dignified, his air told her that much. His hair was slicked back, looking a bit like the gleaming hide of an otter. And his eyes were maroon.  
"Hello, Scarlett." He said.  
"You must be Dr. Lector." Scarlett said.  
"Yes..." The Doctor was eyeing her up and down, making her feel a bit uncomfortable.   
"I was about to have dinner, would you like to join me?" He asked.   
"That would be delightful." Scarlett said, turning on her charm.  
"Lovely. This way." He held the door for her, and she walked into the dining room. He held a chair out for her, and she sat down.  "I see you've brought your best bag." He commented.  
"Yes, it was sent in from Paris last month." Scarlett said, happy that he'd noticed.  
"It's much better than your shoes." He said.  
"I beg your pardon?" Scarlett asked, miffed.  
"I'll be right back." He said. He went into the kitchen. There was a bit of shouting, a scream, and reverberating "Thwack".  
He came back in. "Dinner will be served shortly." He said.

"Having trouble with the servants?" Scarlett asked curiously, forgetting the comment on her shoes.

"Hmmm? Oh, yes." Hannibal said. "Care for a glass of Chianti?" He asked, taking a bottle from a cupboard.

"Please." Scarlett smiled. "If I may..."  
"Hmmm?" Hannibal asked.  
"What will you be serving tonight?" Scarlett asked.   
"Oh, liver, with some fava beans." He told her.   
They chatted aimlessly for a few minutes. "So tell me, why did you come here?"  
"Well, I've been feeling rather blue lately, and I only hoped that your knowledge..."

"You're sooo ambitious, aren't you? You know what you look like to me, with your good bag and your cheap shoes? You look like a rube. A well-scrubbed, hustling rube with a little taste... Good nutrition has given you some length of bone, but you're not more than one generation from poor Irish farmers, are you, Mrs. Butler. And that accent you carry, pure Clayton County. What was your father, dear? Was he a farmer? Did he stink of the fields?

"My father was a great plantation owner!" Scarlett cried. "He ran one of the best plantations of the south! And I pride myself on good nutrition. I went for so long, during the war, starving, and I told myself I'd never be hungry again!" Scarlett was livid.  
"Calm down, Mrs. Butler. I didn't mean to upset you. It's just my way of seeing how well I know the patient. But your father was Irish, was he not?"  
"Well... Yes." Scarlett said, looking down. "His family farms in Ireland."  
Hannibal smiled, his teeth gleaming. A servant brought in the food, and set it before Scarlett. Hannibal sat down, and they began to eat.  
"My, this is delicious!" Scarlett remarked. "What kind of liver is it, may I ask?"  
"Ah, a good cook never reveals his secrets." Hannibal said, waving his finger.  
They talked for a little while, and Hannibal paused.   
"What? Did I say something wrong?" Scarlett asked.  
"No, I was just remembering a wonderful piece of gossip I heard the other day..." He said.  
"Oh, do tell!" Scarlett exclaimed.

"It doesn't work like that." He said, wagging his finger. "Quid pro quo. I tell you things, you tell me things... about yourself. Yes or no?"  
"Yes." Scarlett said without hesitation.  
"What's the worst memory of your childhood?" Hannibal asked.  
"The death of my mother."  
"Hmmm?"  
"She was a wonderful lady... During the war, she went to nurse some white trash. She caught typhoid from them. It killed her the day before I got home."  
"Home, now where is that?"  
"Tara. A Plantation. We had hundreds of slaves, field hands."  
"And what did you plant? Corn?"  
Scarlett squeezed her eyes closed. "Cotton." She whispered.  
"What happened, why did you leave Tara?"  
"One morning, I awoke..." Scarlett said.  
"What time?"  
"4, 5... Early."  
"Something woke you."  
"Yes... A strange sound."  
"What was it?" Hannibal asked.  
"I didn't know... I went to look... Singing! Some kind of singing!"  
"What did you do?" He questioned.  
"I got dressed, went downstairs, and peeked out the window..." Scarlett said, reliving the horrible memory.  
"And what did you see?"  
"The Slaves... The slaves were singing!"  
"The picking of the cotton?" Hannibal asked, a tone of amusement in his voice.  
"Yes... I knew I couldn't stay any longer. Everyone was happy except me! Mother sent me to Atlanta... And I never saw her alive after that." Scarlett had tears in her eyes.  
"And when you came home, found her dead?" Hannibal asked.  
"The Yankee's.... The Yankee's had come to Georgia! I was with Melanie, she'd just had her baby..."  
"So you ran away?"  
"No... I had to save them. I opened the door, but they wouldn't move... Prissy and Beau and Wade and Melanie... They wouldn't move... Rhett came. He carried Melanie, and I finally grabbed Beau and Wade and Prissy and put them in the wagon... We left. Rhett took us to Five Points. He left me... And it was so cold. We didn't have any food or water... And I thought, even if I could just get to Tara... But the load was so weary... So weary..."  
"You did get to Tara, though?" Hannibal commented.  
"Yes... Mother was dead. Pa was insane, and my sisters were sick. I had to run Tara, and the load was even heavier..." Scarlett told him.  
"You still wake up in the dark, hear the slaves singing, the wind screaming beneath the fog?"  
"Yes..."  
"And how do you plan on making it stop?"   
"Quid pro quo." Scarlett said. "Quid pro quo. What was that piece of gossip you heard?"  
"Well, you know Fanny, Mrs. Eslings' daughter? You would not believe what she..." And Hannibal told Scarlett the information. When he was done, Scarlett stood up.  
"I really must go... I hope to see you again sometime." Scarlett said.  
"Hmmm? Yes... I really wish we could chat longer..." Hannibal said.  
"But I'm having an old friend for dinner." Scarlett told him. "Bye..." And she walked out.


End file.
